The Phoenix Creation by K Barnett

Author:K Barnett [Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: K Barnett

10

Ocean Rescue

Alya awoke with a start. Unbelievably she’d managed to sleep through the storm that raged outside. The doorway that Zeph had patched up allowed the wind to whistle through the gaps and buffet the inner door somewhat, but Zeph had proactively cut chunks of spare mattress with a large serrated hunting knife stashed in a leather strap which crossed over from his shoulder to hip, and had managed to plug the gaps at the top and bottom which helped.

Zeph had found the crank to wind the shutters down, to protect the viewing tower, although the tempered glass was as strong as any used for the floors, walls, and ceilings of buildings back on Continent One and was virtually shatterproof, unless it was being attacked by a, missile wielding, Neptune man.

Alya’s gaze rested on Zeph first, as she observed him sitting on a wooden chair half-in and half-out of sleep. He was struggling to stay awake and she wondered why he thought he needed to, they weren’t going anywhere in the pitch-black, war zone, outside.

Lightning flashed and Alya startled causing Hanuel to groan next to her. Zeph had dimmed the lights, or some of them had blacked out, and ordinarily, Alya would have felt a bit scared but she wasn’t. In some ways, it reminded her of the hospital when she was little.

‘How is he?’ said Zeph, his eyes wide open, now that Alya was awake.

‘Er,’ said Alya, assessing Hanuel quickly, and then leaning away from him. ‘He’s hot. Very hot.’ She touched his skin and then tutted, like a concerned parent.

‘Fever,’ nodded Zeph, ‘because of his punctured lung.’

‘You said earlier he’d be fine for forty-eight hours.’

‘I hope so,’ nodded Zeph, ‘forty-eight hours tops.’

‘What if the storm lasts longer?’

‘It won’t, it’s a category six. They usually pass in forty-eight hours. It’s nothing. I’ve lived through a category ten which lasted five days, about ten years ago which ripped part of the canopy off The Island.’ Zeph smiled ruefully as he recalled the incident, although Alya couldn’t see the amusement in a five-day storm at sea.

‘Do you mind if I double-check?’ said Alya eventually, referencing Zeph’s earlier reconnoitre of the pod’s cupboards and drawers, in search of medicine.

He’d found tins of soup and fruit which they’d tried to coax into Hanuel to no avail. Zeph, however, had devoured several tins, one after the other, explaining that he’d brought enough water for his epic flight stashed in leather bound flasks upon his back, but no food. He’d used his lance for food, and flying low over the ocean had plucked fish near the surface out with it, and eaten them raw.

‘No, not at all,’ said Zeph. ‘It’s best you do. Your friend needs all the help he can get.’

‘Right,’ nodded Alya. She stood and stretched, uncomfortable from squeezing on the mattress next to Hanuel. She went to the kitchenette and rummaged at the backs of the cupboards, checking each one twice over, then doing the same with the units over by the bridge area.

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